


The New Girl

by cheshirecatstrut



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Banter, Drabble, F/M, Friendship, Smartassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatstrut/pseuds/cheshirecatstrut
Summary: Jackie navigates her new life as a celebutante in Neptune. She knows just where to go for advice.





	

Jackie Cook surveys the lunch area with a jaundiced eye. She’s suffered worse slings and arrows than these pampered beach bunnies throw…but still, no reason to tempt fate. New year, new identity, new rules—Jackie finally gets the celebrity-spawn life she deserves. Priority one, bond with those who’ve nailed that persona, and study their fighting styles.

Logan Echolls, sprawled across six square feet of prime pizza-consuming real estate, was just the right amount of flirty in second-period English; all charm and polish, zero interest in pursuit. Plus, he’s funny in a scathing way. And Jackie’s ALWAYS down for a good tag-team rip on hypocrites.

Assuming a posture of bored indifference, she slinks over to his table and sets her tray beside him. Sits, back to her food and propped on elbows, mirroring his pose. Theatrically crosses her legs. “Someone sideswiped my Porsche in the parking lot,” she drawls. “Nice welcoming committee you’ve got in this quaint little town.”

He snorts, a smile lurking but not manifesting at the corner of his mouth, and continues his perusal of the unwashed masses. His sycophants are amusing themselves playing keep-away with some have-not’s Chinese food, but he seems content to bask. “That would be the undercover reporter, fleeing detection. I’m sure you’ll make her acquaintance. She’s FASCINATED by the bus-crash pathos of those one degree from fame.”

“I’d ask how you know she’s a reporter.” Jackie frowns as a cheerleader with fake boobs and platinum hair fails to divert Echolls’ attention--if that’s the aesthetic favored here, she’s doomed. “But I’m ninety percent sure you can SMELL them.”

The other corner of his mouth succumbs to amusement; his upper lip stretches, Grinch-like, into a smirk. “Grocery-store dye job, aggressively aerobicized, with the tenacious confrontational style of the middle-class ambitious,” he says. “Really, it’s like math, reading the West Coast vultures. You’ll learn.”

“Huh. Well, one Wallace Fennel offered to help me catch the culprit, in exchange for my clearly-coveted number.” She removes her soda from the tray and takes a desultory sip. “But now you’ve gone and solved the mystery. He’ll have to figure out another way to impress me.”

“Wallace Fennel helps via Veronica Mars.” Logan turns towards her, like she’s finally said something interesting. “And she’s NOT someone you should owe a favor.”

“So Wallace is a detective’s sidekick?” Jackie shakes her head regretfully, sets the soda down. “Too bad, he’s cute. But I have a policy—no beta males. And no boys invested in pleasing other women.”

“Sound.” Logan uncrosses his ankles, recrosses with the other on top. His friends are flinging cartons of Kung Pao at the wall now, which elicits a faint head shake. “But in point of fact, Veronica Mars just jerks the guy around…as is her wont. She’s dating Duncan Kane.”

Jackie lifts her brows. “President of the Student Council Duncan Kane?” she asks. “Possible zombie and future billionaire? Why did I not know this?”

“Because they’re never together?” Logan flicks his gaze towards, then away from, the table where Veronica sits with some sobbing freshman—taking notes efficiently while he spins a tale of woe. “It’s a down-low arrangement, although he’s kept her from realizing that. His family doesn’t approve.”

“Lots of student council meetings at lunch?” Jackie guesses. “So he doesn’t clue her in, by sitting with you?”

Logan snorts. “For shame,” he chides. “Duncan Kane doesn’t associate with tabloid fodder--he’s too GOOD for his former friends. He hides in meetings avoiding EVERYONE.”

“Leaving you to lord it over the prime lunch table.” She smiles, lazily. “Yet the only person YOU’RE talking to is me.”

He laughs, acknowledging the hit. “I like you, Cook,” he says. “You’re just the right amount of bitch. And BECAUSE I feel fond, free piece of advice. Connor Larkin only dates women for publicity, and all his beards are tall and blonde. Fassbender’s a better bet, if you want to hint at dangerous, famous exes.”

She sniffs, toying with her bracelet. “Maybe I’m so amazing Connor made an exception.”

Logan looks at her. She stares back, unfazed. His grin grows affectionate, and she thinks, good thing this one’s emotionally unavailable. That smile is tempting bait on what’s surely a sharp hook. “Fine, you win," he says. "In this one instance, I’m willing to play Pygmalion. Neptune High Survival Guide lesson two…since you’re clear on number one, ‘never let them see you sweat’. Nobody here gives points for being nice. They’re all bored and mean and looking for entertainment. You’ll get further, faster, if you present as bad but INTERESTING.”

“That should be tough.” She tries out a smirk of her own. He seems appreciative.

“Lesson THREE,” he continues, voice edging towards bitter, “and pay attention, this is critical; NEVER let these assholes get the upper hand. Especially, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Veronica Mars. If you DO decide to favor Fennel with your magnificence, tread wary. She will gut you with a smile, and make you enjoy the process.”

Jackie nods, gaze wandering back to all five-feet-nothing of Veronica Mars. She’s sitting (alone) at her table now--while Wallace yucks it up with the basketball team--eating from her cafeteria tray with single-minded focus. Jackie smirks, recalling Echolls’ barb about middle-class ambition…recognizing the likely target.

Preternaturally sensing eyes upon her, Mars glances up. Boldly meets Jackie’s gaze, her own angry and cold. As if she can’t help it, her attention drifts to Echolls. Shifts quickly back to her cake, which she stabs with a fork.

Jackie turns, prepping a scathing comment about hopeless crushes, but something on Logan’s face stops her. Something she recognizes, because she’s felt it—cynical, fatalistic, but with a trace of thwarted yearning. Only visible when Mars isn’t looking, gone before anyone else sees.

“Veronica Mars,” she says, in her supremely-bored voice, developing an instant antipathy for this user of kind boys. “Not to be underestimated, got it. Unluckily for her…neither am I. And I’ve developed a hankering to play with her toys.”

“Be gentle,” he warns, instead of discouraging her. “With Fennel, I mean. He sees himself as a player, but he’s not ready for the big leagues.”

“Gentle, unflappable, bad-but-interesting and not-nice.” Jackie ticks bullet points off on her fingers. “In other words, a mystery wrapped in an enigma, with a hauteur that just MIGHT melt.”

“And the pupil becomes the master.” Logan settles deeper into his slouch, while behind him, pizza congeals. He’s perfectly positioned, Jackie realizes, to keep Veronica Mars in view. “Welcome to Neptune, Cook. Hope it treats you better than it has the rest of us--but forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”

 

 


End file.
